


Summer Rain

by JustAWritingAmateur



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Angst, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-03-04 21:19:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3090287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JustAWritingAmateur/pseuds/JustAWritingAmateur
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How quickly she had forgotten. How desperately she had tried to forget this."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Summer Rain

He is around her; he is within her; he suffuses her; she breathes him in.

Maybe someday she can sort herself out; maybe someday she will untangle the muck, the mired strands of her mind that knot and unfurl like threads, a single red thread tied around a pinky finger and connecting her to his.

Kissing Danny is like laughing, like a gentle breeze rustling through her hair, making her eyelids flutter. Kissing Danny is turning towards the sun.

Kissing Danny is easy.

Kissing Toby is different.

Kissing Toby turns her liquid; it fills her with molten fire. Kissing Toby is looking towards the sky during a summer rain and letting it soak her through, until there is no difference between her body and the wet, rich soil beneath her feet.

It's strange when eventually they both have to come up for air, like fish gasping as the water escapes their veins, reacclimating to this new world where everything is slightly off-kilter. She clutches his arms in surprise, digging her nails into his skin; somehow, he props her up, guides her to her couch.

They are coltish, young, inelegant adolescents tasting something new and forbidden for the first time. How easily his harsh, brooding voice turns soft and velvet; how well it lends itself to husky want.

How quickly she had forgotten.

How desperately she had tried to forget this.

He is around her; he is within her; he suffuses her; she breathes him in.

The way he makes love isn't gentle. She, coy, dips her fingers in the water; he takes her hand and holds it above the fire until it almost hurts, and she's screaming in a certain kind of ecstasy that twines around her feet and holds her, holds her in thrall and it's him; it's him; it's him.

She's lost herself for just that moment.

It doesn't matter that he will go home to someone else, always chasing those ginger strands; elusive, they will always slide through his fingers.

It doesn't matter that she can only watch as he slides his wedding ring around and around his finger like a silent, unconscious prayer.

It doesn't matter that he will never be hers.

He kisses her eyelids once, then the palms of her hands, then buries his face in her neck in exhaustion.

He is forever the dark sun burning behind her eyes.


End file.
